Not What I Planned For The Evening
by LittleSixx
Summary: Natasha Romanoff ran into Neville Longbottom in a bar.
1. Chapter 1

_A/N: Don't ask why this happened; I couldn't tell you. Basically I wanted these two to discuss their scars and it's hard to do that without having them take their clothes off. Takes place a month or so after the Battle of New York._

* * *

Nat stared at the bullet on the table.

Tucked away in the corner of a dingy bar somewhere in the East Village, she was sipping a White Russian inside a booth with one leg settled underneath her.

Clint was going to be a father.

Natasha knew it would happen eventually, she just hadn't expected "eventually" to come so soon. She held out hope she would be worthy of his love one day. Hoped that she could earn it, earn him. But Clint didn't have that kind of time.

Laura was great, the sort of person Clint deserved. Someone normal, who had never been brainwashed or committed homicide. A woman who could live on a farm. Nat could never settle down like that; she needed to keep doing enough good to balance out the bad.

The glass made a dull thunk when she placed it back on the table. The bullet wobbled and fell onto its side before rolling toward the edge. It rolled ... and rolled ... and rolled right off the end into Natasha's open palm. She placed it back onto the table and rolled it over the surface. Once, twice, ten times. Over and over until she could hardly feel her fingertips.

Someone coughed.

Natasha jumped and stuffed the bullet into her jacket pocket. She looked up to see a tall, thin man standing a few feet off to the side of her booth.

"Didn't mean to startle you," he mumbled. "I just, um ... You looked like you might need someone to sit with."

Not a pickup line. He had an English accent and looked as though he should be just about anywhere but a bar on Wednesday afternoon. The man was staring adamantly at the side of the table like he was nervous to be so much as speaking to Natasha. There was a stick-shaped bulge in his pants pocket but he did not appear to be carrying any actual weapons.

Nat looked up and said, "It is rare that anyone manages to sneak up on me."

"I've lived most of my life trying not to be noticed," the man said. He shrugged and admitted, "I fancy myself quite good at it."

Nerd.

It was the first word Nat thought of to describe him. Blond hair, round-faced, and well over six feet tall. He wore a blue sweater over a grey button-down and looked more like a college professor than anything else. The only thing missing was the briefcase.

"Nat."

"Sorry, what?"

"Natasha," she said, "my name."

"Oh!" He offered his hand and said, "Neville."

She nodded toward the other side of the booth.

"You can sit."

Neville looked at his proffered hand for a moment before realizing Natasha had no intention of accepting the handshake. He slid into the booth opposite her and sighed. Nat waited for him to say something, but he seemed more interested in the tabletop. He had a full blond beard and looked to be in his early thirties, but his eyes looked like they had seen sixty years' worth of tragedy. She took another sip of her drink and asked the one question guaranteed to drive most people away,

"What brings you to New York?"

He chuckled.

"Work."

"Everyone says that."

Neville asked, "Would you prefer I lie to you?"

"I would prefer you to be interesting."

He grinned and said, "No one has ever accused me of being interesting."

"Now there's a lie," Nat countered, returning his smile. He was a surprisingly nice distraction from ... everything. She guessed, "You're a professor?"

"Usually. I am on sabbatical this year for research, but had I known it would bring me to New York I would have reconsidered."

Nat swirled the liquid in her glass and admitted, "The city has lost some of its shine for me, as well. What do you research?" Pedestrian conversation was safe. It almost felt normal.

"Plants."

One-word answers always said more than a full diatribe.

"You're a biologist?"

"Herbologist."

"Fancy," Nat quipped. "Why are you here?"

Neville looked up at her and raised his eyebrows.

"I just told you, I'm here to research—"

"In my booth," Natasha clarified, with a wry smile on her face. "Why are you here in my booth?"

He ran a hand through his hair and said, "You looked like you needed someone, is all. You look like you are carrying the world on your shoulders, and I know how difficult that is. Sometimes I wish my friends had been there for me, stopped to ask, 'Hey, mate, are you alright?'"

Nat nodded and Neville continued.

"'Course, most of them suffered more than I did. Might have done more than I did, so I always felt a bit ... Dunno, like my pain was somehow invalid. Like it wasn't quite bad enough for anyone to care. And if they didn't care, why should I?"

Nat raised her glass and said, "I understand that better than you could ever know."

"And that is why I'm in your booth. Because I wish someone had told me it was alright to feel sad, even if I didn't feel I deserved it."

He was staring at her, then, his earnest gaze unwavering from Nat's line of sight. She hadn't seen that look before. Well, that's a lie, she had once when Clint found her all those years ago. That look of understanding, vulnerability, and trust. Why the hell Neville the Biology Professor was looking at her like that she couldn't say, but she wanted him to keep doing it.

"Maybe I don't," she said.

"You don't deserve to feel pain?"

"If you knew the amount of pain I've caused in this world ..." Nat trailed off and shook her head. "You would run out the door and jump into the Hudson."

"Listen to me, Natasha, I have come face-to-face with true evil. I faced a man with only a fragment of his soul remaining so I know what that looks like. I may not know you as a person, but I can damn well say you are not evil."

"Perhaps I was, once." She leaned forward and noticed scarred, mottled skin around his hairline. It seemed to have healed, mostly, but it appeared to be a burn. She nodded toward it and asked, "What was that?"

Neville completely closed off. He sat back in his booth, looked down at the table, and pushed his hair further down the front of his face. They sat in silence for a full minute and neither of them moved. They listened to the distant hum of conversation, barely distinguishable from the music coming out of the jukebox. Neville broke first.

"War," he revealed. "It was war."

"The head is a strange place to get a scar."

"War is inventive."

"That evil you were telling me about, this is what he did to you."

"You wouldn't believe what happened to me if I told you."

Nat grimaced and revealed, "I can promise you, I would."

"Funny thing about darkness, innit?" Neville said, quickly changing the subject. "It creeps up on you. Then you need someone to show you the light again."

"Did you ever give into that darkness?"

Neville shook his head.

"I prefer to be the light."

"I know a guy like that," Nat revealed. She spun her glass around a couple times before continuing her thought. "He saw the good in me when no one else did. He's the closest thing I have to family."

"And you lost him?" Neville asked, concerned.

"In a way."

"Now, that I understand."

"How could you?"

"Because I was in love once, too, and losing her to someone else landed me in the back of an old bar drinking until I couldn't tell my name from hers."

Natasha laughed. An actual, honest-to-God laugh. He hadn't meant it to be funny, but ... The thought of Professor Neville being the sort to get heartsick-drunk in the back of a bar was ridiculous. Nat had met people like him before; quiet professors whose minds far outpaced their social skills. She had killed more than one of them, but this one, this man was holding something back. A big something.

"You're different from the sort of person I assumed you were." She glanced toward the ceiling then back to her drink. "I thought I was finished being surprised for awhile."

"What can I say?" Neville teased. "'m full of surprises."

"Last month I battled an evil sorcerer and a robot army; nothing is a surprise anymore."

Neville chuckled low in his throat and stared down at the table. It was his tell; something had made him uncomfortable.

"Was it the robots or the sorcerers you didn't like?"

"Not sure about robots, whatever the bloody hell those are, but magic is something I am well-acquainted with."

"Then you should get the hell out of my booth," Nat quipped.

Neville nodded and made to scoot out. More than happy to take his leave.

"Nice meeting you, Natasha. I hope you find the good in yourself soon."

He stood at the end of the table for just a fraction of a second too long. Like he actually regretted his decision to leave and it surprised him. Just before he turned away, Nat said,

"You can stay." She nodded to the available space next to her and said, "Sit with me."

Neville glanced toward the door and said, "I really shouldn't."

"Pretend I'm work then," Nat teased. "Research me."

"I don't ... I mean ..."

She lowered her voice into a more somber tone and said, "Neville, it looks like we could each use a friend right now. Be my friend for a minute?"

He shrugged and acquiesced, "Fine, just for a bit." He sat down as close to the edge and as far away from Natasha as possible.

He had figured out she was dangerous; that was why he was so eager to leave. A man like him had his fill of danger looking at a Venus Flytrap, let alone in being in the clutches of a well-trained assassin. Neville knew more than he let on, though, and the only way to his truth was through her own.

"My friend was married before I met him. He was the light for me. The one person who saw through what I was and found potential for good. I don't know if I'll ever be able to repay him for that trust."

"Do you ever consider going back to it?" Neville asked. "Back to what you were before?"

"Honestly, professor? I don't think I changed," Nat admitted. This Neville person couldn't do anything with her secrets. He didn't know who she was, where she was from, or what she had done. He knew nothing, and yet seemed to know exactly the right thing to say. "I think I use my skills for the right side now, but if you make your living in a fight, in a war ... Can I ever be good?"

"You said you battled a sorcerer and his army," Neville said. "Why?"

"Because New York needed to be saved. The world needed to be saved and I could help."

"That's good, wouldn't you say?"

Nat gave him a wan smile and said, "There is a lot of red in my ledger, professor."

"I don't care," Neville insisted. "What matters is what you do now. What you want to do and choose to do, that defines who you are now. The horrible things you must have done, would that person have worked to save the city?"

"No, but—"

"Then you are a new person. New person, new ledger."

She inched closer to him on the booth and he didn't pull away.

"I'll never deserve him, though," Nat said. "Never going to be enough to repay what he did for me, and he has his own family now. This time next year, he will have a daughter. He has a farm, the whole family life, and is it bad that I want it?"

"No, it would only be bad if you wanted to take it away from him."

"I would never do that."

"I know," Neville said with a small smile. "I can tell."

Nat leaned forward and undid the first button of his collar. Her fingers worked slowly, and Neville stopped breathing. He looked like he might pass out, but he didn't back away from her proximity either. She smiled and said,

"There. Now you can breathe."

"Yeah, um, yeah ... Wasn't really having trouble with that before, but ..."

Natasha enjoyed seeing him flustered. He blushed and she thought perhaps she could pry more out of him while he was embarrassed.

"Tell me about your lover, then. The one whose name you couldn't remember."

"I remember it fine now," Neville quipped.

Nat wrapped her arm around his shoulders and pulled herself flush against his side.

"Maybe I can help you forget again."

That seemed to relax him. Nat felt the tension slowly bleed out of his shoulders. He bit down on his lip and admitted,

"I might like that."

"Tell me about her."

"We went to school together," Neville whispered. "I've known her since I was eleven. Never really caught her fancy in school, far too fat and unfortunate for that."

"You're here with me," Nat teased, a whisper against his ear. "Can't be too unfortunate."

Neville swallowed thickly and she watched the up-and-down bob of his Adam's apple. His breaths were slow and steady, like he was concentrating, or maybe he was lost in a memory ...

"We got married eight years ago and really thought we could make it work. She's one of the nicest people I've ever met. Just a nice person trying to do some good in a world with far too much bad." He laughed and said, "God, she was really great at snogging, though."

"Sounds like you loved each other."

"Well I'm a teacher, you know, at a private school in Scotland. She lived in England and there wasn't a commute. Our love was strong up close, but at a distance ..."

Nat put her hand on his thigh and he looked over at her with sad eyes. Goddamn, she couldn't do too much for him in the long run, but perhaps she could make that sadness disappear for one night. If she was lucky, maybe he could do the same for her.

So Nat kissed him. Just a delicate brush of lips to test whether Neville would pull away ... And he didn't. She moved to nuzzle at the space right below his ear. He sighed.

"Natasha, this really isn't what I had planned for the evening."

She nipped at his neck then trailed delicate kisses along his throat until she reached the hollow of his throat. Another pronounced bob of his Adam's apple. He smiled and placed one hand on her side.

"Is this how you treat all your friends?"

"I think you need a distraction," Nat said, looking up at him through her eyelashes. "And I do, too."

Neville dragged his hand slowly over her back, from the base of her spine to the nape of her neck, pulled her closer. Nat shifted onto her knee and his indecision seemed to wane.

"Her name is Hannah."

Nat nodded and Neville shifted on the bench to face her, so they were both sitting with their weight on one leg and one shoulder pressed against the back of the bench. His request was whispered so softly Natasha could hardly hear it over the din of bar conversation.

"We divorced about three years ago. Would it be horrible if I wanted to forget her for a night?"

"I don't think either of us wants that," Nat whispered against his lips. "I think we want to move on."

"And this is step one?" Neville asked as his fingers snuck beneath the hem of Nat's shirt.

She nodded and smiled a bit.

"Maybe we skipped a few."

"I think 'm okay with that," Neville replied. His hand worked upward underneath Nat's shirt and he cupped her breast overtop her bra.

Nat was caught off-guard by the fire that surged through her veins and she arched into his hand. She kissed him again, harder this time, threading her fingers through his hair to pull him closer.

She felt Neville smile and mumbled, "Shut up," with absolutely no conviction. Natasha tugged on his sweater and he removed his hand. Her breath caught in her throat when Neville began kissing his way up her neck. The scraping of his beard and the swipes of his tongue against her skin were gentle and almost hesitant.

"Really shouldn't be doing this here."

"Yeah, you're right," Nat said, with no intention of stopping. When she made to kiss him again, he pulled back.

"How much do you hate magic?"

"You can do magic?" Nat asked. "Not like, card tricks, but magic?"

Neville swallowed hard and asked, "Would you like to come back to my hotel?"

"How fast can we get there?"

His arms tightened around Natasha and he said, "Hold on."

Next thing she knew, she was being squeezed through something approximately the size of a toothpaste tube. Every part of her was uncomfortably mushed, liquified, like she was being sucked through a straw. And just as quickly as it began, it stopped. Nat was spat out onto the floor of a very nice hotel room.

Once glance around told her she had scouted the place before. It was near Washington Square Park and cost far too much money for a lowly professor. She stood up to face Neville, who was staring sheepishly down at the floor.

"So you can do magic?" she asked again, an accusation in her tone.

"Yes, I can do magic." Neville pulled the stick out of his pocket and revealed it to be a wand. An honest-to-God wand. He stood up and opened the drawer of the sidetable and tossed it inside. "But I know it makes you uncomfortable so I won't."

"How the hell did we get here?" Natasha asked, wrapping her arms around her middle.

Neville sat on the edge of the bed and answered, "Magic. Are you afraid now?"

Nat thought about it, but Professor Neville was not threatening. He could probably be if he wanted to. Nat could tell he had seen war. Would bet he had killed, too, but he felt safe in a way Clint didn't. Professor Neville didn't have anything she could take away and wasn't the sort of person she could hurt.

"I don't think so. I've seen magic worse than this."

"So have I."

Nat nodded.

Neville held out one hand and said, "Let's just start again."

"Step one?"

"Maybe we'll skip a few."

Nat laughed. This felt so easy, so welcome. She walked over and pushed Neville back slightly on the bed before straddling his legs. Neville wrapped his arms around her waist and they made out for awhile. His ex might have been a great kisser, but Neville was pretty good himself. He was gentle, careful, almost loving.

He started exploring Nat's body with his hands. They broke apart just long enough to get her shirt over her head before Natasha kissed him again. He drew his fingertips along her spine, from the bottom of her bra strap to the hem of her pants and back again. Then he came up over her shoulderblades to run his hands up and down the curve of her arms. Gentle exploring was exactly what she needed, easy, lazy strokes across her skin that felt like slipping beneath a warm blanket after a cold day.

But Nat wanted to be warmer, closer to the light that was Neville Longbottom. She pulled the sweater over his head and tossed it on the floor. She played with the buttons on his shirt but did not open it. Neville stilled his hands on her back and Nat wasn't sure what she wanted. He certainly wasn't, however, as he undid her bra and threw it on top of his sweater. Neville cupped one breast and rolled the nipple between his fingers as his other hand just snuck beneath her underwear to tease the top of her ass. Nat moaned and pressed her forehead into his shoulder.

"Where'd you learn that, professor?"

He laughed.

"I used to be very clumsy, if you can believe it. Still trip over everything."

"You don't think much of yourself," Nat mumbled.

"Neither do you," Neville countered. "Think much of yourself, I mean."

"I like some parts more than others," she mumbled. Nat unbuttoned the second button of his shirt and fanned out the collar. She wondered how his bare skin would feel beneath her fingers. She pressed her hips down against Neville's and his breathing stuttered again. He was very still; the only movement was his thumb tracing circles in the small of her back.

In that moment, Nat felt safe and warm. She never wanted Neville to leave her arms, wished they could keep floating along, just like this. Stay in this stolen moment where all the tension had gone and thoughts of her broken heart were so far away she couldn't feel it at all.

Natasha leapt up and unbuttoned her pants. She pushed them down without ceremony and stepped out, leaving her socks in the cuffs. Nat had never been self-conscious about her scars and wasn't about to start now, but Neville studied them intently.

"Come here," he said.

Nat obliged him and he touched the one on her abdomen. Ran the pad of his thumb across it then swiped it back before firmly pressing against it. He wrapped his fingers around her hip and felt his way to the similar raised bump on her back.

"Went right through you?"

Nat nodded.

"Your turn," she said. She pushed his hair back and saw the scar ran above his hairline as well, and reached from ear to ear. "I've never seen a burn like this."

"Magic," Neville replied. "I was jinxed with what we call, um, we call it a Body-bind. I couldn't move, he put the hat on my head, then set it on fire."

God. They rarely used fire in the Red Room. It's not intimate enough, not effective enough. Guns, knives, your body ... Those are effective weapons. Fire is uncontrollable and far too risky. Nat had never thought much about it before, but looking at Neville's scarring Nat wondered whether she had ever been that cruel.

"It was over fourteen years ago, Natasha. I've dealt with it." He pressed the pad of his first finger against the small linear scar at the base of her throat. "This one looks older."

"It was over fourteen years ago," Nat quipped. "I've dealt with it."

Neville laughed and Nat liked his smile. It had been awhile since she was around anyone who wasn't afraid to laugh. Let alone laugh while she was topless and he was already half-hard in his pants. She traced the litany of scars along his left wrist.

"Cut myself on glass when I dropped a prophecy. Suppose I should have seen it coming."

It was Nat's turn to giggle.

Neville admitted, "I've been waiting years to make that joke."

Nat began unbuttoning his shirt. He leaned back a bit and smiled. She didn't rush. None of this needed to be quick. Once she undid the last button, Nat pulled the sides apart to see a pink flush making its way down Neville's neck and chest.

"You nervous, professor?"

"I think I might be, yeah," Neville admitted. He stared at a spot on the wall over Nat's shoulder. "I wasn't until about ten seconds ago, but ... Until now I was just doing this for me, but I think I want to do this for you, too."

Nat should have left. She should have stopped right there, grabbed her clothes, and found the nearest elevator. But the comfortable warmth of Neville was too inviting and his breath was hot against her cheek.

"You have to know I'm a one-and-done," she said. "I can't do anything more."

"I better make this one good then, yeah?"

"You are doing exactly what I want you to do," Nat said with more sincerity than she intended. "Just slow, professor. Let's go slow."

He nodded and moved toward the center of the bed. He opened his legs and patted the space between them, so Nat crawled over to place herself between them with her back to his front. Neville ran his hand over her shoulder, slid past her elbow and down to her palm to take her hand in his own.

"I owe your friend a debt."

Nat asked "How so?"

Neville's lips grazed the delicate skin between her neck and her shoulder, so Nat leaned further back. The feel of his mouth against her disappeared just as quickly as it began.

"If he is the first man who saw good in you, all of that led you right here to me. Forgive me for the low comparison but you, Natasha, are certainly the best part of New York City."

She chuckled. God, she had smiled more in the past fifteen minutes than she had in the past year. Nat reached behind her and slid her fingers into his hair. She tugged the slightest bit and Neville moaned low in his throat. Natasha leaned as far back as she could and tilted her head up toward his. Before she could say anything, he pressed his lips against hers.

This kiss was different; it was needier. He softly pulled at her lower lip so she tilted her head further back as he worked himself into her mouth. Nat let her guard down and went slack in his arms. She shouldn't have, should have remained alert and scanned for potential threats, but Neville wasn't that sort of man. She had seen evil, corruption, men deranged with power. Neville was not like that. Hell, he had placed his wand out of sight to make her comfortable.

They broke apart the slightest bit as Neville cupped one of her breasts. They breathed into each other's mouths, shared the same air, and Nat couldn't get close enough. She placed one hand on his thigh and he murmured,

"Take your knickers off for me?"

"Yeah," Nat nodded, breathless. "I can do that."

Neville watched as she lifted her ass off the duvet—damn, they hadn't even made it to the sheets and Neville's gaze was already sending bursts of warmth down her spine. Nat pulled her underwear off and tossed them over the edge of the bed. Neville dipped his head to kiss that point between her neck and shoulder once again and cupped both breasts with a firm grip. Nat moaned quietly and Neville said,

"You don't have to be quiet, Natasha. And, um, if I'm being honest ... I'd sort of ..."

He trailed off and Nat huffed, "Don't go quiet on me now, professor."

Neville ran one hand down across her stomach and further to press one finger against her clit. She let out a shaky breath and tightened her grip on his thigh.

"I'd like it if you weren't quiet. If you don't hold back how good I can make you feel. That's all."

He made agonizingly slow circles against her clit and Nat started writhing against him. She pushed up into his hand a bit trying to increase the pressure, but he pulled away.

"You said slow, so we're going slow."

Nat nodded, cursing herself. It began slow, just like everything with him seemed to. She tilted her head up again and he kissed her. Nat felt him hard against her back and the thought of fucking him was almost too good. She was so ready for it, wet and wanting.

She couldn't remember the last time anyone had wanted her like this, if anyone ever had. It was intoxicating. Neville finally upped the pressure against her clit for a moment before he slid two fingers inside. The heel of his hand kept tension against her clit and Nat bucked her hips up into his touch. She felt Neville grin against her shoulder.

"God, yes," Natasha said, throwing her head back onto his chest.

"There we go," Neville teased. He kept kissing her as his fingers worked in and out. His lips drifted lazily from her jaw to her throat to her shoulder and back again. It was as though he felt her arousal and always backed off just before it was about to crest. He drew out her pleasure, kneading absentmindedly at her breasts or trailing his fingers up and down along her side.

Natasha felt herself start to shake in his arms. She breathed out, "Please," and Neville obliged.

He quickened his pace, in and out, while using his other hand to rub hard and fast against her clit. Nat came suddenly, choking out a half-formed "Oh, God," before her eyelids fell shut. It was a light show behind her eyes and she slipped further down Neville's chest. Every muscle that had relaxed beneath hi's touch tensed at once until she fell into a dense fog, completely boneless.

She blinked herself back to consciousness sometime later to feel Neville rubbing soothing circles against the inside of her thigh. She tilted her head up for a kiss, gentle and pliant.

"Do you want to go on, or was that enough?"

"I want—" Nat stopped herself and pulled back. Neville didn't move at all, electing to give her space. Which was fine, since she was freaking out in the worst way. I want. The Red Room had burned those words out of her and S.H.I.E.L.D. never gave them back. For the first time in God only knew how long, Nat didn't feel bad about wanting something. Someone.

Nat just turned around and took Neville's face between her hands. She pressed their foreheads together and shut her eyes, wanting to be wholly in that moment with him. Nat's not sure how intimate she was prepared to be, so she kept pushing forward.

Throwing caution out the fucking window, Nat unbuttoned his pants and pulled them down along with his boxers in one movement. Neville kicked them off with an amused smile and Nat kissed the corner of his mouth. He took that opportunity to get a thigh between Nat's legs and rub.

"FUCK."

Neville tugged Nat down into another kiss, and she could spend ages just like that. Happy kissing this professor she picked up in the dingiest bar she could find. Or, well, Nat supposed he had picked her up, as they were back at his hotel.

"You're so quiet."

"I told you earlier, I am very good at making myself unnoticed."

Nat grabbed his hand and ran his fingers across the wet heat between her legs and said, "Well I fucking noticed."

Something shifted in Neville right then. Like he only just realized he was meant to enjoy this, too.

"Touch me," he said. Not a command and not a request, just a statement hanging out there between them.

Nat dipped her head, wrapped her lips around the tip of his dick, and sucked.

"Ohbloodyhellwhatthefuck!"

Neville fell back against the pillows and bucked up into Natasha's mouth. She couldn't help but smile as she popped off to breathe. She took him in a second time and got him halfway down her throat before pressing against the underside with her tongue.

"Natasha ... Tasha ... NAT!" Neville begged her to stop. "We only get one go of this, and I want to ... Want to ..."

She popped off again and asked, "You want to fuck me?"

"God, even hearing you say it gets me close," he admitted. "How embarrassing is that?"

"It's not embarrassing to want me."

"No, I know, but ... My brain seems to have taken a holiday and I'm thinking with my dick now."

"Fine by me," Nat said as she pinned Neville to the mattress. She guided him to her entrance and slid down onto him almost too quickly.

Neville squeezed his eyes shut and Nat braced herself on either side of his head. She rolled her hips the first time, testing it out, and good God. Neville's breaths came in short, uneven bursts and she pressed a delicate kiss to his cheek. He opened his eyes and placed his hands on her hips, guiding her to the appropriate speed. His hips rose off the mattress in time with Nat's up-and-down movement on his dick.

It was slow. That's what Nat liked about their time together: nothing was rushed. She leaned forward so their chests were pressed flush against each other and Neville wrapped his arms around her waist to keep her close. He nipped at her lower lip and grabbed her ass with both hands as he thrust inside her. Nat felt that familiar pull start between her hips and build up as Neville's fingers wandered across her body leaving a trail of fire in their wake.

Neville looked her in the eyes and said, "I'm so close, Natasha."

"Yeah?" she asked. "Good, because I—"

She came with such force that it surprised her. There was a full light show exploding against the inside of Nat's eyelids and her entire body was weightless. She was floating there, on top of Neville and she never wanted to leave.

"Almost there, Natasha," Neville said. He pulled her down onto his hips with both hands on her ass and settled her there as he rode out his own orgasm. Nat watched as he threw his head back onto the pillows and shut his eyes, concentrating on how good it felt. She brought one of his hands up to her breast and rocked back-and-forth until Neville said, "Stop."

Nat rolled off of him and onto the mattress. She stared up at the ceiling and smiled, satiated. She snuggled up to Neville's side and pressed one hand to his cheek, turning him so they were face-to-face. She pushed back some of the hair sticking to the sweat on his forehead.

"You were wonderful," he said. "Fucking amazing."

"Not so bad yourself, professor," Natasha replied. She leaned forward to kiss him, but Neville pulled away.

"Sorry, as much as I would love to have another go, it's going to be a bit before I can."

"I don't want another go, I just want to kiss you for awhile."

Neville's brow furrowed and he asked, "Why?"

"Because I can't remember the last time someone cared enough to go slow." Natasha ran her hand across the plane of his chest. "And I'm not ready to let go of you just yet."

"Do you want to ..." Neville shook his head. "Never mind."

"Whatever you were about to say, I can fully confirm that I want it."

Neville picked up her hand and pressed a delicate kiss to her knuckles.

"Dinner?"

"Only if you promise to let me do this again once we get back."

"Oh, Natasha, such great hardship. I really must think about this further, consider all my options ..."

She shut him up with a kiss that both of them smiled through.

"Think you can tolerate New York now?"

"I was such a magnet for misfortune, Natasha, but I think you might have changed that."

Her expression darkened and she said, "Don't count on it, professor. I've brought misfortune upon hundreds of people in my life."

Neville tucked some of Nat's hair behind her ear and replied, "That may be true, but I promise you I'm not one of them."


	2. Chapter 2

_A/N: My hand slipped and I wrote another chapter. It is unedited, so please forgive any mistakes. I hope you enjoy this._

* * *

Two weeks.

Nat had been seeing Neville for two weeks. She had taken him out for pizza, forced him onto rides at Coney Island, and walked him down 6th avenue to window shop at impossibly expensive places. He had been absolutely fucking perfect. He looked at one of the crystal stores and said,

"I would walk in and break something before they could say hello."

He wasn't as clumsy as he thought he was. He tripped over things, and sometimes over nothing at all, but he was in control of himself. They were back in his hotel room when Natasha asked,

"What's it like to do magic?"

Neville shrugged.

"It doesn't feel particularly special. I'm not good at it, pretty average. Except in Herbology, which I love, but ... 'm not sure what you mean, what's it like?"

"Do you feel it?" Nat asked. "Do you need to use your wand to do it? Do you have spells or do you just think something and it happens?"

Neville laughed and considered her questions for awhile. Natasha curled into him on the sofa and stared at the television. It wasn't on; Neville said he didn't like it 'barking' at him. She stared at it so long it blurred around the edges. Neville wrapped his arm around her shoulders and said,

"Right, well ... I dunno if I feel magic. I've always had it so I don't know what it feels like to be without it. Like I said, I'm not particularly great, so I need my wand to channel magic. My friend, Hermione, though, she can do wandless magic. It's a very difficult skill to learn and she's the most powerful wizard on the planet."

"Should I be afraid of her?"

Something strange passed over Neville's face when she asked. He licked his lips and looked toward the ceiling.

"Is that always your instinct, to be afraid?"

"Only with things I don't understand."

"You were never afraid of me."

"I'm very skilled at reading people," Natasha said. "You were never a threat to me."

"Only because you didn't know I had magic."

"No," Nat countered, "because I knew you weren't the kind of person who would use it to hurt me."

Neville smiled and said, "You were right about that. And I knew you could kill me any time you wanted to, but trusted you wouldn't."

"Considering my body count, professor, not a wise calculation."

"Considering your heart, Natasha, I came to the only proper conclusion."

Goddamn.

She kissed Neville then said, "I might be going a bit soft."

"You did say you were a one-and-done, and we've done 'one' about twelve times now ..."

"We can make it thirteen later tonight," Nat teased.

"Hmm ..." Neville trailed off and rested his forehead on the crown of Nat's head. "What do you want from me in return?"

Natasha considered it. Nothing, really. Sex with Neville wasn't a chore, it was comfortable. Not in a routine way, but comfortable in a way that was safe.

"Would you show me magic?"

Neville tensed around her and asked, "You really want that?"

"Yeah," Nat said, nodding and pushing herself up. "I want to see what you can do."

Neville shook his head.

"No, I don't think I want you to see me do something that frightens you."

Nat pressed, "Have I lied to you?"

"No, but I've really enjoyed this, Natasha. Being here with you, ending my day with you is such a happy feeling. Right now you feel safe with me, or, at least I hope you do."

"I do."

"Then if I show you magic it could change how you see me, yeah?"

"I don't think so. I want to see this part of you."

"Well, I'm not very good at telling you no, am I?"

Nat laughed. Neville smiled and stood up to retrieve his wand. Nat went back to staring at the television screen, blank so she could see their reflections. She watched Neville leave the room and saw the moment he returned. She reconsidered for a moment. Neville might have been right, if it wasn't the sort of magic she could handle she might never feel quite right in his arms again.

Neville plopped onto the sofa next to her and said, "I'll do this, but I will start with something more pedestrian so you don't run out to the lift and I never see you again."

"Good idea."

"Right, well ..."

Neville was flushed pink. Nat smiled as he swished his wand then flicked it toward the television remote. It slowly rose off the coffee table in front of them and hovered in the air. Three inches, six, then two feet ... It flew higher until it was near the ceiling.

"You can make things fly?" Natasha asked, stunned. "That's amazing."

"Small things," Neville said. He slowly lowered the remote back onto the table. "Large objects require more power that I haven't got."

"Why do you do that?" Nat asked. "You speak about yourself like you're unimpressive, but to me you're just," she shrugged, "great."

Neville blushed. He ran a hand through his hair and nervously twirled his wand between his fingers.

"I like plants," he said. The blush did not fade. "I like to study things but so much of what we learn about magic isn't personal enough. Charms or Potions or Transfiguration ... Those things are useful, I suppose, but I want to learn about the world. Herbology is great because not only do I get to discover new species all over the world, it brings me closer to the people I meet there."

"Brought you to me," Nat added.

Neville's blush deepened as he replied.

"Yes, it did. I enjoy growing things. I know I will die one day, but I get to leave a lasting impression on the world that I can't do with a potion. And this is the one thing I was never horrible at. I speak poorly about myself because school was difficult. I was bullied a lot, especially by one teacher who thought I wasn't worth the fabric it took to make my robes."

"Sounds harsh."

"No, he, um, he said that in class after I spilled something."

"Oh."

"But my Herbology professor never looked down at me and she gave me every opportunity to learn. I have no bad memories associated with this and I really fucking enjoy plants."

"That's depressing," Nat quipped.

"The first seventeen years of my life were fairly depressing," Neville replied.

"Well then ... Show me a happy spell. Something that you have to be happy to do."

Neville thought about it for a moment and sighed heavily.

"Okay, but I'm going to need you to kiss me first."

Nat did so without preamble. Neville's fingers were tangled in her hair as he pulled her close, like he was trying to memorize the feel of his lips against hers. He broke away with his eyes still closed and he nodded.

"Yes, that'll do." He opened his eyes and half-shouted, "Expecto Patronum!"

A fine silver mist peeked out from the end of his wand, and it kept coming. The mist slowly formed itself into a shape Nat couldn't make out until it formed a perfect circle. A 'U' shape formed at the top like it was some sort of scarab beetle.

"Huh," Neville muttered, "this is new."

A few seconds later, a fully-formed spider was visible, about the size of her closed fist. Nat smiled at it. The spider slowly made its way over to her and landed on her hand. She chuckled as it crawled up her arm.

"Normally it's non-corporeal," Neville admitted. "It's never more than a mist ..."

"It's adorable," Nat said. The spider had reached her shoulder by the time she said, "They call me the Black Widow but I never told you that. How could you know?"

Neville quickly paled as he started piecing together a puzzle that Nat couldn't see. He stood up and stuffed his wand in his pants pocket. The spider disappeared and Nat looked up at Neville, confused.

"I'm not feeling well," he said.

"Oh," Nat said, concerned. "Should I go get you some soup or, you're British, should I grab some tea?"

"No, Natasha," Neville said, staring resolutely down at the carpet. "I think you should leave now."

"Right, okay ..." She grabbed her jacket off the edge of the bed and asked, "Should I come back tomorrow for thirteen?"

"No."

"Well I thought we had plans."

Neville walked over to the door and held it open.

"Please, Natasha, I think you should go."

She walked out the door, but darted back in just to grab Neville's hand. She tried to catch his eye but he wouldn't look at her. He squeezed her hand then dropped it before shutting the door between them.

**.oOo.**

She slipped.

Sparring with one of the nameless S.H.I.E.L.D. agents, she slipped. What was the problem? Everyone slips. Except the whole gym heard her hit the mat and turned to stare. Natasha huffed and jumped out of the ring. This was her first week back on duty after the Battle of New York and she was failing miserably.

"Nat?"

She didn't want to hear his voice. She kept walking, pretending she hadn't heard him.

"NAT!"

She walked faster until she felt Clint's hand on her shoulder. Without thinking, she grabbed his hand and flipped him onto the floor. He hit the ground and she heard the air fly out of his lungs with a sharp "Whoosh!"

"You should know better than to sneak up on me."

Clint grumbled something as he tried to stand up. Once he was firmly on both legs, he crossed his arms and gave her the look. She hated the look because he always saw more than he should. Natasha threw her hands up in the air and asked,

"What?"

"You're tense."

"Yes."

"This isn't like you," he said, concern evident in his voice. "Is something wrong?"

Nat nodded. Clint sighed and placed both hands on her shoulders.

"Yogurt?"

Natasha nodded again and repeated, "Yogurt."

**.oOo.**

The best froyo in the world was located at the bottom of the Bloomingdale's in Millburn, New Jersey. When they needed to speak without fear of being heard or seen, Nat and Clint went to Bloomies because hiding in plain sight was easier than trying to remain unseen. Nat chose vanilla, Clint chose chocolate, and they each took a chair on opposite sides of a rickety white table.

Clint kicked at the table stand and asked, "Was it a mission?"

Nat shook her head.

"Tasha ..." Clint frowned into his yogurt. "You look sad. I've always seen you, Tasha, but this is different and I don't like it."

Nat nodded.

"I made a mistake and I should have known better."

"Ah," Clint said with a grin. "Does this mistake have a name?"

"Possibly."

"Are you gonna tell me?"

"Don't count on it."

"Let me guess, you like him."

Nat sucked her spoon dry and admitted, "I like him."

"What's the problem?"

"I like him and he rejected me," she snapped. She put her unfinished yogurt cup on the table and let her head fall into her hands. "I hate this. I always keep it together, but at this moment when I want to hide myself away from him, I keep exposing myself to everyone."

Clint nodded.

"Tell me about him."

A tear slipped out. It surprised Natasha; she hadn't felt any buildup. She wiped it away and glanced down at her fingertip.

"He's wonderful."

"How'd you meet?"

"In a bar."

"You fell for a guy you met at a bar?" Clint playfully scolded her. "Tash, I taught you better than that. Bar fucks are one and done."

"I thought that, too, but he was different."

"Twelve-inch dick?" Clint guessed.

Nat stole a massive scoop of his yogurt in lieu of a reply.

"Come on, Nat," he insisted with a more somber tone. "You're my best friend and I want to be here for you. Let me be your friend the way you've always been mine?"

Natasha swallowed hard, and then she cried.

"I never let myself get close enough to anyone because they can reject me. And they should because of everything I've done." She paused to hiccup. "But he was different. Kinder, safer, really fucking great, Clint. It was ..." She paused again to laugh through a hiccup. "It was magical."

"What makes him different, Tash? Why him?"

_Because he was the only person who could help me get over you._

"Because he never looked at me like I was evil, or like I would be a hot fuck. Like you said, he saw me."

Clint took several bites from his yogurt, but Nat wasn't all that hungry. She pressed the heels of her hands into her eyes and took a deep breath. The tears eventually subsided.

"How did he reject you?"

Nat couldn't reveal the magic. Clint was too raw from it, and she would be hard-pressed to argue that she was of a different mindset. So she explained as best she could.

"I think he finally realized I like him more than a little. Dammit, I promised it was one-and-done, but I never expected him to feel whatever it was that I felt."

"You know, Tash, you might be wrong."

"How?"

"Maybe ..." Cint trailed off and shook his head.

Nat stole his yogurt cup and held it out precariously behind her. Clint's eyes went wide in mild horror and Nat grinned.

"Maybe what?"

"Nat, give me my froyo."

"Not until you say what you were going to say."

"I was just going to say you've got it backwards."

Nat set the yogurt down on the table.

"Maybe he realized _he_ likes _you_ more than a little." Clint grabbed his yogurt and took a bite. "I mean, a barfuck is hardly how you think you're going to end up in-"

"Do not," Nat warned. "Do not go there."

"Tasha." Clint stared resolutely down into his nearly-empty paper cup. "You know it's okay to be in love, right? It is alright for you to fall for someone."

"Is it?" Nat shot back. "I keep finding the wrong someones."

"Why do you think he's wrong?"

She shrugged and didn't answer. Clint stole her yogurt and picked around the strawberries.

"Not everything has to be a fight."

"It does when fighting is the only thing I'm good at," she replied. "I was trained to treat everything as either a threat or a target. I finally found someone who doesn't feel like either and he's _terrified_ of me!"

"I don't know the man, Tash, but if I had to guess, as your friend, I would say he's not terrified of you. He's afraid that he wants something more than you can give him and he's trying to keep himself from being hurt."

Nat stared at a rack of clothes over Clint's shoulder.

"He's a teacher."

Clint didn't acknowledge that he heard her, too engrossed in the frozen yogurt.

"Someone set him on fire when he was seventeen."

"We have that in common."

"He's got a beard though," Nat teased. "Not sure you could pull off that look."

"And cover up this face?" Clint asked. "Not a chance."

Natasha smiled and leaned back in her chair. This was easy. Clint was never a fight. Like Neville said, he was the light that always managed to guide Nat back home. Back to the person she wanted to be.

Clint asked, "Does he know you could kill him with your thighs?"

"I don't think he minds; he enjoys being between them."

He laughed and admitted, "A brave, brave man."

Nat frowned and said, "Not brave enough to risk his heart on me, though."

"Then de-risk it. Try showing him you can make it work. Laura and I work through this together, and she knows I will be with her any time I can be. And that I'll make it work even when I can't. S.H.I.E.L.D. needs me more than I need them. I considered retiring after ..."

_After_.

Clint squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head from side-to-side like he was trying to shake the remnants of Loki from his brain.

"There are still fights to be fought and I want to win them. I want to win them with you, Nat, and you can't win if you're distracted by heartbreak. One way or another, you've gotta figure out where you stand."

Nat nodded in agreement.

"When the hell did you get so good at this?"

"I've always been this good," Clint teased, "you just never had any reason to ask."

**.oOo.**

The next day, Nat followed Neville through the streets until he stopped at a crosswalk. She walked up next to him and said,

"Hello, professor."

She was staring straight ahead, but heard what sounded like Neville sighing with his entire body. The signal changed and they were smushed together in the middle of the mass migration across the street. Neville instinctively wrapped his arm around her shoulders to keep her close. However, he dropped his hold the moment they touched pavement again. Nat tried to ignore the way her heart sank into her stomach.

"I should have known you would find me."

"Trained assassin."

"Right." Neville kept walking and Nat quickened her pace to keep up with him. "Why are you here?"

"Because I want to know what I did wrong."

"No, Nat," Neville said as he stopped walking and pulled her off to the side, out of the way of passersby. "You did nothing wrong and I'm sorry if that's how I made you feel."

"Then what is this?" Nat asked, frustrated. "I thought we were ... we were ... I thought we were planning on thirteen."

"Oh, is that all?" Neville snapped.

Nat took a step back. He'd never spoken to her like that before. Neville looked heavenward and asked,

"Did you ever think of me as anything more than a way to get over him?"

"Yes."

"Well that makes this more difficult," he mumbled.

"I know it was something about the spider," Nat said. "I thought magic could pull me away from you, but I never considered it would push you away from me."

Neville stuffed his hands into his pockets and said, "The spell it's, um, it's called a Patronus." And then he didn't say anything else. He turned to look at the street like he was seriously contemplating running into oncoming traffic.

Natasha grabbed the front of his shirt and demanded to know, "What the hell does that mean?"

Neville brushed her off and said, "We use it to ward off different kinds of evil. You conjure it by thinking about your fondest memory."

"Which memory did you use?"

"Snogging you."

Nat felt her face go hot at his words.

"Kissing me is your fondest memory?"

"Yes, Natasha, because you ..."

"Because I what?"

"Before you, my Patronus was just a mist. For a Patronus to take an animal form you must either be a powerful wizard or have a fiercely happy memory."

"Kissing me makes you happy!" Natasha insisted. "You might have noticed I enjoy it, too. What is the problem?"

"The problem is that I am falling in love with you!" Neville shouted. "A Patronus can change form when its caster falls in love, usually into a representation of the person they're in love with. When mine changed into a black widow ..."

Natasha hadn't heard anything after "I'm falling in love with you."

"Could you repeat that?"

Neville swallowed hard and admitted, "I love you, Natasha. It is completely mad, I've only known you two weeks, but you have done nothing but make me feel comfortable as myself. You've come to see my magic as something other than terrifying. You look at me like I am a future you never thought you could have, and that's just it, Nat. It is a future we can't have."

"Why not?"

"Because a month from now I will be back in England and you will still be here! We have lives an ocean apart. I would rather end things now than have you become my next Hannah."

"I fly a jet that can cross the Atlantic in an hour," Nat said. "I have missions across the world. I haven't ever had a home, professor, and I'll be damned if anything can keep me away from whatever this is, because being with you is the closest I have ever felt to home. Maybe I am a little bit in love with you, too, and maybe I see the same future you do."

"It can't work, Natasha."

"For you? I will make it work."

"I can't ask you to do that."

"You don't have to."

Neville started walking and Nat followed him. He said nothing for three blocks and she followed him right through the door of his hotel. They stood next to each other on the elevator, neither of them saying a word. Nat figured if he wanted her gone he would have said as much. He walked to his room, unlocked the door, and Nat followed him inside.

Before the door had shut, Neville pressed her against it and kissed her, hard. His hands cupped either side of her face and Nat wrapped her fingers around his belt loops and pulled his lower half flush against her. He broke away just long enough to ask,

"Thirteen?"

Nat nodded and repeated, "Thirteen."


End file.
